To Write Love On Her Arms
by anythingzombie
Summary: AH/OOC - Edward Cullen just wants to help. Bella Swan wants the pain to go away. It gets harder before it gets easier. Can Edward save Bella before it's too late? Dedicated to the millions out there suffering. Short. Cutting/Suicide.
1. To Write Hope On Her Arms

**Author's Note**

This story is dedicated to the many, many out there that are at their hardest in life. Together we can change the world, all we need is a little love.

I would also like to say this is for a friend of mine - Dimmie Arnold. Without her I wouldn't know what TWLOHA was about.

I support To Write Love On Her Arms.

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"The stars are always there but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. We miss them in the storms. Tell them to remember hope. We have hope."  
- Renee Yohe

Depression is treatable. Rescue is possible. We can stop the bleeding. Love is the movement.

This is only the beginning.

**To Write Love On Her Arms**

**EPOV**

I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel, my patience was running low. For months I had been following the TWLOHA movement and I was finally going to be a bigger part of it. I recall the first time I heard about To Write Love On Her Arms..it was from my best friend Jasper Whitlock. His father had just died and he was having a hard time coping with it.

He would lie in bed every day, not daring to seek the outside world.

It was on shocking day that he arrived at school, fresh cuts on his wrists. The red stained his yellow sleeves, he tried to hide them but nothing could get past the students. Immediately I intervened.

"Jasper!? What did you do?" I asked him with worry.

"I can't do this anymore Edward," he said. Tears formed in his eyes and his lips trembled.

"Can't do what?" I questioned, my voice hitched.

"Life..."

Lucky for me he heard about Renee Yohe, lucky for me he found the will to go on. Without TWLOHA...Jasper would be gone. Every since that day I knew I had to do something, be a part of this. Forks, Washington was starting their own counseling center for depression, suicide and addiction. I quickly signed up to be a counselor, a supporter.

Today was my first day, and the green lights wouldn't stay green long enough. I smashed my hands against the steering wheel and glared daggers at the lights. I had five minutes...I wasn't sure why I was freaking out about it so badly. It's not like I _had_ to be there early. I suppose I was just eager, happy to help the lives of many.

I had told Rosalie about this..she thought it was stupid.

"It's not your fault those emos are cutting themselves," she said with a snicker. I wanted to punch her, but instead I ignored her and walked away.

Rose didn't understand why people did this, why someone would create a community about "emos". Little did she know that anyone could be a victim of depression. It didn't matter about race, age, sex, life. Depression was a state of mine, a disease that makes itself home in too many. I was going to change that. I would help those who needed it.

It didn't matter if it was my fault or not, people needed love and I would be there to share it.

I pulled my car to the small brown building located next to the book store. I shook my head, this needed a bigger place. Perhaps a large home to shelter those who need more time...who need more love. I grabbed my backpack from the backseat and jogged inside, I was greeted by warmth and the smell of coffee.

"Edward..A ha! You're here," Angela said. She pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and walked over to me. "Nice shirt." I smiled and rubbed my hand against the black shirt. I had bought it on the internet, in the right corner it read 'To Write Love on Her Arms'.

"I thought it would be..a positive thing to wear," I said. Angela smiled and nodded her head. She reached onto the table beside us and slapped a sticker on me.

"That way they know who you are..and what you are to them," I looked down.

_Edward - Caring Friend_

I smiled widely, "Thanks Ang."

"Everyone is already here," she stated. I felt my eyes go wide.

"Really?"

She nodded her hand and linked her arm with mine. She led me to a room where six others were. Three were counselors and three were the members. My heart panged with disbelief. Where were the others? I figured we'd have many people here.

"Come in, we were just waiting for you two," Kate said. I nodded my head and took a seat in one of the available fold out chairs. I took my seat next to Angela; our eyes quickly went to the ones who showed up.

One was a boy; he had blonde hair and baby blue eyes. He had his arms crossed on and his legs were extended it out. I could tell he didn't want to be here..but he was, that was all that counted.

The other was a girl, she had curly brown hair. Her eyes were on her feet and I could tell she was self conscious; both her arms and legs were crossed. She wore bigger cloths and shifted uncomfortably.

The last person was also a girl; she had brown hair that went over her shoulders. As if she was trying to create a curtain. She had her bottom lip in between her teeth and eyed the empty space below her.

"Let's go around and talk a little bit about ourselves," Garrett spoke. Obviously trying to break the tension. "My name is Garrett. I am twenty eight and I am addicted to coffee..clearly." He took a sip of his coffee and only five of us chuckled.

"My name is Angela. I am twenty two and I love photography."

It was my turn. I could make a list of what I loved to do...better make this short. "My name is Edward. I am twenty two..and a half. I just want to help." I shrugged my shoulders. That was all I could come up with.

Kate flipped her blonde hair, "My name is Kate. I am twenty five and I enjoy dancing."

_Nice..._

It was the boys turn, he yawned. "Mike. Nineteen. I'm allergic to cats."

The curly girl smiled before grimacing. "I'm Jessica. I'm nineteen as well and I like to go to the movies." She turned her head and looked at the girl next to her.

She blushed, bit her lip then blushed more. "My name is Bella. I am twenty and I.... I like to read."

I smiled at her shyness.

"Who would like to speak first?" Kate asked, looking at the three members. Each of them looked away as if they would disappear.

"Mike how about you?" Garrett asked. Mike sighed and sat up correctly.

"To be honest with you guys I really _do not_ want to be here. My grandpa died a few weeks ago and I've been down in the dumps...my mom thought it would be best if I got some "help." I find it kind of stupid. I mean everyone gets sad."

Angela began to speak, "Well maybe your mom thought it would be a good idea to make sure your sadness doesn't lead to depression."

"Yeah, well, whatever reason. I'm here," he retorted.

"Jessica? What's your story?" Kate asked. Jessica's eyes got wide and she also sat up.

"A few years ago," she spoke quietly, we had to lean in. "My father sexually abused me and I got really sad before I got mad. But I wasn't mad at him, I was mad at me. I started to cut myself and I became anorexic."

"And you became anorexic_ because?_" Mike asked. He seemed intrigued in her story, but he didn't need to be an ass about it.

"I didn't think I was pretty. Every time I looked in the mirror all I saw was this fat...sad girl. I was hungry all the time, cutting made me forget that and the hatred." Tears welled in her eyes.

"Well Jessica, once we began our more official meetings we'll show you that it is okay to love yourself and that there is more to life." Garrett said. Jessica smiled with pure happiness. "And Bella...why are you here?"

Bella looked up from her sleeve, quite shocked. Her cheeks flamed and she blinked a few times.

"Uh, I'm... a cutter as well." That was all she said, we sat there waiting.

"Bella. We can't help you if you don't tell us more," Kate said. Bella stared at her lap and played with her fingers in her hands. She only shook her head.

"I'd prefer not to share my story with the world," she mumbled.

"That's what this is all about, opening yourself to others," Garrett spoke.

"Yeah Bella...if you want help then you need to trust us," I intervened. She only shook her head.

"What are you doing here then?" Mike asked rudely.

Her eyes got wide and her mouth dropped. "I don't know." She grabbed her bag off the back of the chair and preceded out of the room. I was surprised to feel my feet following her.

"Bella!"


	2. To Write Trust On Her Arms

**Author's Note**

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, a lot of you are glad that I'm writing about this issue. Me too.  
If I haven't told you already, this is going to be a short story. It's more like a PSA then anything. I just want the message to get across.

It's not my best work, but this isn't about the story. It's about the meaning of the story.

**Warning: **Cutting. Swearing. OOCness.

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"I would rather write her a song, because songs don't wait to resolve, and because songs mean so much to her. Stories wait for endings, but songs are brave things bold enough to sing when all they know is darkness. These words, like most words, will be written next to midnight, between hurricane and harbor, as both claim to save her."  
_- Jamie Tworkowski_

**BPOV**

I stared at myself in the mirror, my right eye taunting me...mocking me. _It wasn't my fault_, I say to myself over and over again. I had to believe in those words, but it was just so hard. Downstairs I could hear my older brother Emmett, and my father's slur. They were casually laughing and sharing their thoughts. It wasn't fair.

Emmett comes home to a happy guy. I come home to a drunk, angry guy.

Guess who got sucker punched right in the eye?

It wasn't like it never happened before, but today it was...worse. After Edward had caught me outside the building, he convinced me to talk, to open up. Tonight. Just me and him. Alone.

I heard the stairs creak, followed by my brother's grunt. I had left the bathroom door open; I was planning on just looking at my eye then hiding in my room.

Emmett's large build leaned against the frame. I looked at him and he sighed.

"What did you do?" he asked in a serious, nonchalant tone.

"I didn't do anything," I replied.

"Bells, obviously you did something to piss him off," he stated. I shook my head.

"All I did was walk through the front door," I said to him. Now it was his turn to shake his head. He pursed his lips and looked away from me. Little did I know that his eyes were still somewhere on me.

He walked into the bathroom, grabbing my right wrist.

"Bella what the fuck! I thought you were over this emo, cutting shit!" he exclaimed. I pulled my wrist out of his tight grip and tugged my sleeve down. He sighed, rolled his eyes then disappeared. I walked out of the bathroom and into my room, closing the door behind me and locking it.

I walked to my bookshelf and reached for my beaten copy of Wuthering Heights. I held it my hands and flipped it to my bookmarked page. The razor slid out of it and into the palm of my hand. I squeezed it gentle before setting the book down.

I sat on my bed and pulled my sleeves up. If I were to cut on my arms or wrists there was a chance someone might see the fresh cut. I needed a place where no one would see. I reached for the buttons on my pants; I quickly slipped my jeans off. I held the razor in between my fingers and guided the sharp metal down to my thigh.

I held it against my flushed skin. I took my lip in my mouth and bit as I slowly added pressure to the razor. There was a loud knock on my door, scaring me. Do to my fright I pressed to hard on the razor and pulled too far. I had a long cut against my thigh and blood was spilling out.

"Hey Bells! Dane Cook is on, want to watch him with me?" Emmett called through the door. I sat in a panic.

"Ssure," I stuttered. "I'll be down in a sec." I heard the wood floors creak and I quickly jumped off my bed. I ran to my dresser and grabbed a few band aids. I unwrapped them with shaky hands and placed the skin colored bandages against my cut.

The band aids were tanner then myself.

--

I felt uneasy meeting Edward; I didn't want to share everything but I knew I had to.

I had the slightest urge to cut, to take my mind away from the pain. But I couldn't here. Not in a public place where Edward would be. Instead I snapped the tight rubber band against my left wrist.

_Once._

_Twice._

_Three times._

The chimes on the door rang and I spotted Edward. He looked around until his emerald eyes met mine. He smiled. I bit my lip and pulled the rubber band back farther before letting go. I winced as it recoiled and snapped against my bare flesh. Edward noticed that.

He frowned and walked over to me. I figured his eyes would have zoomed to my wrists. Instead he looked deep into my eyes, his were full of sadness.

"I'm glad you decided to meet me," he said.

I nodded my head. "That makes one of us."

"Bella, I just want to help. Don't you want to be better? Happier?" he spoke, his eyes growing bigger.

"Of course I want help, but it's a lot harder than you think."

"What happened to your eye?" he commented. I looked down.

"I fell, I'm sorta a klutz," I said.

He sighed and slipped off his jacket, he still had his sticker on. "Alright, why don't you tell me when you started cutting."

Boy was I glad this place was nearly empty and the music was louder than it should have been.

"About two years ago. My parents got a divorce. My father started drinking, and my brother got cancer." This was going to be harder than I thought. I continued to snap the rubber band as I spoke, ignoring the tears that were building up.

"That's a lot of upsetting things. I can see how that would affect someone," Edward spoke. Something about the way he said it had me mad.

"Have you ever cut?" I asked him.

He smiled crookedly, "No, I don't think I could do anything like that."

"Have you ever been depressed?"

"Well..sure, everyone has at least once in their lives." he reached for the menu and started reading it.

"Why are you really doing this?" I asked him, my eyes narrowing. He looked up at me and captured my eyes.

"I want to help." I snorted. "My friend was thinking about suicide until he did some research. If it wasn't for To Write Love On Her Arms..he'd be dead."

"Soo, your just doing this because you almost lost a friend," I guessed, he nodded his head.

"I don't want anyone else to go through what he did."

I snapped the rubber band again. "Depression is hard thing to get through."

"I know," he said smilingly.

"Just because we go to counseling doesn't mean we're going to get over it." he nodded his head.

"Bella, I'm well aware of what may or may not happen. All that counts is that I tried." I was beginning to feel suspicious.

"You make us sound like a charity case," I mumbled. I knew he heard it but he ignored me.

"Well guess what Edward," I said in acid tone. He looked up with scrunched eyebrows. "We're not a fucking cause!" I grabbed my jacket and walked out on him once again, tears falling free. I shoved the door open and headed for my rusty truck. The chimes of the door were audible and I knew he was following me.

"So what? You're going to start walking out every time someone tries to help?" he asked. I shrugged my shoulders and continued for my truck. "You'll never get through this if you continue this Bella. You can't be a drama queen, you need help."

I stopped immediately and turned around, slamming into his chest. He grabbed me before I could fall. I looked up into his green pools and for a moment the pain was gone.


	3. To Write Pain On Her Arms

**Author's Note**

I may one day re-write this story, give it a little more detail and make it better.  
It's weird writing like this, just typing without much thought and what not.

Thanks for all the reviews, you guys rock my socks..even though I never wear any.

I apologize for the shortness..that's all this story knows.

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"She hands me her last razor blade, tells me it is the one she used to cut her arm and her last lines of cocaine five nights before. She's had it with her ever since, shares that tonight will be the hardest night and she shouldn't have it. I hold it carefully, thank her and know instantly that this moment, this gift, will stay with me. It hits me to wonder if this great feeling is what Christ knows when we surrender our broken hearts, when we trade death for life."  
_- Jamie Tworkowski_

**EPOV**

I looked down at her brown doe eyes. Her bottom lip was caught in between her teeth. Wetness formed in her eyes.

"Bella," I breathed. "Please let me help you."

She sighed, her emotions changing from sadness to anger in one second. She stood up correctly and pulled out of my arms.

Bella dropped her jacket onto the ground, followed by her shirt. Underneath she wore a blank tank top. With angry tears she held her arms out to me, scarred wrists touching.

"That's a big thing to ask for Edward. Helping someone like me," I gasped as my eyes travelled up her arms. There wasn't a place with a bare patch of skin. Cuts in many directions took up her delicate skin, different lengths, some deeper than the other. On her left arm she had the words 'fuck up' cut into her pale flesh. "There isn't help for these Edward. They're a part of me."

I shook my head and grabbed her hands, pulling her body closer to me. I let my hands go from her hands to the length of her arms, feeling each scar as if they were my own. I felt her tremble underneath my cautious touch. I looked at her eyes. They were shut tightly and the tears had welled over.

I took small steps, each one taking me closer to her. I felt her heart beat against my chest and I sighed. Before I knew it she was gripping onto me and crying into my shoulder. I brushed her hair with my hand and continued to tell her it was okay, that I was here and I wasn't going anywhere. She shook in my arms and her tears stained by shirt, but I didn't care.

The only thing I did care about was making Bella safe and happy again. All at once her legs gave up on her, leaving me to keep her standing. I placed my arm under her knees and cradled her to my chest.

"I can walk.." she muttered. I smirked and walked her to an empty bench, instead of setting her down I sat with her, still clutching to my shirt.

"I...I can't do this anymore Edward," she said. My heart twinged. I had heard those words before.

"Can't do what?" I shakily asked, my throat tight.

"Life," she whispered, a small sob coming through her pink lips. I pulled her closer to me, my own tears welling up.

"You can Bella. You can," I pep-talked her, she shook her head in my chest.

"Please Bella..." She looked up at me, her eyes curious.

"Please what?"

"Just live, keep living. No matter how hard it gets, just keep your chin held high." My voice was hushed and full of pain because deep inside I was hurting over her hurt.

"Why!? So you can go to your fucking love on her arm camp and say that you saved a life!" She threw herself off me and started stomping back to her truck.

"Bella!" I called out, following her.

"Edward, you will _never_ understand what's going on in my life. Not dying sounds so much easier than it actually is. Trust me, I would know," she growled, throwing the truck door open. She got in and slammed it shut, driving away.

I stood there in the empty parking lot - confused and hurt.

I did understand, even though I never felt that way. I could understand and sympathize with her... I could help her.

I shook my head and squeezed the tears back in my eyes. I walked to my car and just like her; drove away.

--

I pulled up to Rosalie's house, her bedroom light was on and her parent's cars were in the driveway. No boys allowed after ten, well, I'm not a boy..I'm a man. And to me it's only three in the afternoon. I went to the familiar oak tree and began to climb it, like always Rose could always sense when I was coming.

She was already at the window, waiting. She had the sly look in her violet eyes and a sexy smirk.

"Not tonight Rose," I said as I climbed into her room.

"But Eddy," I looked to see her lips pouting; she put her soft hands on my chest. I pushed them away and sat on the foot of her bed, she must have noticed my distress.

"What's wrong?" she asked. I wanted to tell her, but I had a feeling she'd make me feel worse. So instead I pressed my lips against hers, she pulled me down on the bed and on top of her.

But before I knew it, someone else was climbing through the window. He was large and had an angry face, but I think I must have been angrier.

"Emmett, hi!" Rose said, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

"Uh hi Rosie..did I come at a bad time?" He asked, she was about to answer but I cut her off.

"No of course not, you timed everything just perfectly!" I growled. I slipped on my shoes and grabbed my jacket, exiting out the window and down the tree.

It didn't matter; Rosalie and I were never a couple. We were just friends with benefits. Whenever I tried to be more, she just always told me she wasn't ready for commitment. No, I can tell that was a bunch of bull shit. Rosalie was busy having 'no commitment' with other men as well.

Great.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I flipped it open and read the text.

**Ed, get to the hospital ASAP! - Garrett**

_Fucking_ Great.


	4. To Write Death On Her Arms

**Author's Note**

I never meant for some things in this chapter to come out this way, but I think it made them better.

This chapter is very robotic and boring, well..sorta. My least favorite.  
Two more chapters to go.

Thank you so much for the reviews, it makes me feel much better about this story.

**Warning:** Cutting.

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"Love is something better. I have been challenged and changed, reminded that love is that simple answer to so many of our hardest questions. Don Miller says we're called to hold our hands against the wounds of a broken world, to stop the bleeding. I agree so greatly."  
_- Jamie Tworkowski_

**BPOV**

I battled with my tears on the way home, they blurred my vision and I was constantly blinking them back. My heart quivered in pain and I tried to keep my sobs in my throat, they would escape from time to time. My old truck rolled to a stop in front of my home, the lights were off. I wiped at my tears as I slowly got out. I walked through the lawn and into my silent home.

I quietly creaked up the stairs, making sure not to alert anyone that I was home. Once in the secure bunker of my bedroom I locked the door and leaned against it. I took three deep, painful breaths before heading to my book shelve. I grabbed the razor, squeezing it in my hand. It hurt, but not as bad as I wished it did.

Blood began to ooze in my palm. I opened my fingers and stared at the red stickiness. There use to be a time where blood made me queasy, light headed. I miss those days. The only time I ever felt queasy or light headed was when I cut to deep, when the blood spilled more than it should.

I felt doing that tonight, pressing the blade deep into my skin and releasing the contents of my veins. I was tired of this life. I tried and I tried..but it never did anything. I wanted so badly to go back to the younger days, when I was too young to even be allowed to hold a butter knife.

Things change. I hate change.

I brought the blade to my left forearm, retracing the words with the razor. It didn't hurt as bad as it did the first time, but it still didn't seem to quench my thirst for more. The pain in my heart grew more, it conquered the slices. I wanted the heartache to go away; I needed it to go away.

I pressed the razor deeper into my skin. I started to feel more pain. I winced and hissed as free blood flooded out, the skin around the cut started to ache as well.

"Bella!" I heard a voice from downstairs. I ignored it and pressed deeper, harder. "BELLA!" It was Emmett. I growled and pulled the razor out. I ignored the blood on my arm and angrily unlocked my door. I threw it open. "WHAT!?" I growled.

"It's dad, he's not breathing!" All my anger vanished; I dropped the small blade and rushed down the steps. I stumbled near the bottom but was to frightful to fall.

Emmett was on the phone, panicking into it.

I went into my father's room, he was lying on his back and his eyes were shut. I crawled onto his bed, leaving a trail of red on his sheets. I put my hands on his cheeks.

"Dad," I whispered. Nothing.

"Daddy," I called out, more tears releasing.

I was aware of Emmett footsteps, "Bells." I let out a cry as I stared at my father's unmoving body.

The sound of sirens was audible, that's when it hit me. He was actually leaving us, my brother, me. He was _leaving_.

"NO! NO!" I cried, throwing myself onto him. I heard Emmett gasp and the sound of him running to me.

"Bella, you're bleeding." He grabbed my bloody arm, nearly screaming at the sight. "Bella!? What did you do!?" Through blurry eyes I saw him scan my scarred arms, his eyes wide. He looked up at me and tears formed in his eyes.

"Why!?" he shouted; half angry, half pained. I shook my head, loosening tears.

The next thing I knew EMT's were making their way into my father's room. Emmett pulled me out of their way. We stood in the doorway, with wet eyes we watched them try to re-vive our father.

"Where did this blood come from!?" One shouted.

"My sister," Emmett replied. The orange haired female came to me, taking my red stained arm into her hands.

"This cut is very deep, you're going to lose too much blood," she stated.

The man cut in, "We don't have time. We need to get him to the hospital."

--

Emmett and I sat together in the back of the ambulance, surprised they let us come. We watched with fear as they both worked on my father. My left arm had a white gauze on it, it was turning red rather quickly. My eyelids felt heavy and my brain pulsated, but that didn't matter. He had to live.

My father might hit me on the drunken occasion, but I would never blame him for that. It was the alcohol that made him do those things, nothing else.

I also blamed myself, for setting his unsober state off.

The sirens shut off and the doors opened. My father was taken out and rushed inside. Emmett followed like a soldier. I followed like a lost little girl. He held my hand in his large grasp, holding tightly as if he was afraid I would leave him too.

Inside doctors rushed to treat my father, leaving us alone in the empty waiting room.

We sat in the chairs, shifting uncomfortably and holding back our tears. A gorgeous doctor with blonde hair appeared before us, he's face glum.

His frowning lips spoke, "I'm sorry."

--

I was alone in the hospital bed with fresh stitches. I was angry at the needles. They didn't hurt me on purpose; it was so it could make me better. That was the last thing I wanted, the last thing I needed.

Robotically, my body sat up and walked to the counter. I grabbed the scalpel and brought it my wrist. Without much thought I began cutting, adding more matching scars.

I could barely feel the nicks anymore.

With each slice I pushed deeper, pulled harder.

One for my father.

One for my mother.

One for my brother.

One for Edward, who stood there long enough to care.

I owed them everything, and yet I couldn't find it myself to stay for them.

The scalpel hovered over my writs vein, instead of going straight across I ran it along the blue line, following it with the small knife. I made sure I pressed deep. I made sure I bit my lips as the pain and blood begun to spill out.

It was as if someone had turned a switch. Blood oozed out quickly. It ran down my arms, my gown and touched the floor beside my bare feet. I gripped the scalpel in my left hand, repeating what I did with that vein.

I moaned at the pain, I clenched my lips and let the scalpel fall to the ground. The blood was free and flowed like a waterfall. My head started to ache and my eyesight was blanking. I reached for the bed and pulled my body onto it, wrapping my arms around me knees.

As time passed by I felt myself reach peace, there was no more pain. I smiled at the euphoria and let a trapped tear fall.

"..Bella?"

My eyes shut and a warm sheet of blankness was all I knew.


	5. To Write Goodbye On Her Arms

**Author's Note**

Well, I started working on this chapter a few hours after I posted the last chapter.  
I finished it up this morning.

Emmett says something near the end. I actually got that from my brother. He says that all the time.

One more chapter folks, I still hate how bad this story is. And that's only because I could make this better. But this isn't about the story, this is about To Write Love On Her Arms. I hope you all learn from this and try to help someone when they are at their hardest in life.

* * *

"Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true."  
_- Jamie Tworkowski  
_(These words make me smile.)

**EPOV**

I parked my car in an empty space. I chewed on a thumb nail as I thought about going inside. What could possibly be going on that need me here as soon as possible? My mind wondered over the possibilities.

_Dad accidentally hurting himself with his medical tools._

_Mom burning herself from cooking her large meals._

_Alice going to fast in her car, crashing into something._

_Jasper relapsing, cutting to deep, overdosing._

I shook my head. No, I didn't need to think those thoughts. It was probably nothing, maybe they were throwing a surprise party for me. But..my birthday is in July. It's August.

With a defeated sigh I got out and slowly walked inside. Immediately I was greeted by Garrett, his hazel eyes bloodshot and full of worry.

"What's going on?" I nearly shouted. He shook his head.

"Angela passed out on us. She's being placed in the hospital for exhaustion, dehydration and well...I guess she hasn't been eating anything for the past few day." He sighed and sipped his coffee, running a hand through his shaggy blonde hair. "We only found this out about five minutes before you showed up."

I sighed in relief, "She'll be fine right?" I asked. He nodded his head.

"Yeah, a few days here and she'll be back to normal."

"Is she sleeping?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

He smiled, "Yeah, she looks like an angel."

I chuckled. "I'm going to go stop by my dad's office, talk to you later." He smiled and turned around, trudging off to Angela's room. I went the other direction, passing by all the night nurses and doctors. They all nodded at me and said a brief hello. I did the same gesture.

As I made my way down the hall to my father's office, some nurses ran past me, followed by my father.

"Dad?" I asked, he looked at me with panicked eyes and continued to go past me. I let it slide. His work came first when he was on the clock. I went into his office, taking a seat on the black, leather couch.

I let my joints pop as I casually laid down, my thoughts flying to Bella.

I hoped she was okay. I hoped that she was asleep and not cutting.

--

"Son, wake up," I felt something shake me. "Edward. If you sleep like that you'll hurt your back, this couch is like a boulder." I chuckled. Boy was he right; this had to be the worst couch ever. I let out a large exhale and opened my eyes. My father pulled of his white coat and set in on his chair. He fell into his with a large sigh, he let his head fall back and he stared at the ceiling.

"What happened?" I asked, remembering before.

"Chief Swan had a heart attack some time in his sleep...he didn't make it," Carlisle's voice broke at the end. I knew how much my father hated when he lost a patient, how horrible and guilty he felt. I pulled away from the couch and walked over to him. I put my hand on his shoulder. He patted it and sighed.

"His poor children. It was only a few years ago that I diagnosed his eldest with leukemia. His daughter isn't doing too well either, so many scars." As soon as he said scars I immediately thought of Bella. Didn't she say she had a brother who had cancer? Was Bella Chief Swan's daughter?

"Really, how are they taking it?" I wanted to say how was she taking it, but I didn't need Carlisle suspecting anything.

He cracked his neck and stood up, walking to a picture on the wall. "The girl is taking it better then the boy. I thought we were going to have to strap him down on a gurney. I actually had to stitch her up," he said, staring at the picture like an amazed artist.

"What for?" Bella's scars were all I could see, her hurt face, her tears.

"Well she's a cutter, a horrible one at that. She cut a little too deep. She lost a lot of blood but she's stable. At least I think," he walked back to his desk and sat down. I tapped my fingers against the wood.

"What was her name?" I asked, half expecting to get a _'That's not your business Edward'._

"Bell-" He didn't even get a chance to finish. I was out the door and flying down the hallways. The workers stared at my speed, honestly curious. I ignored them all, I didn't stop.

I paused for one second to ask where her room was. I asked Tanya, she had a thing for me and my father.

"Hi Edward," She said, batting her eyelashes.

"What room is Bella Swan in?" I asked, using my own charms.

"Room 129, but I think she's sleeping." I smiled at her, she smiled back. With that I nodded my head and started running to the room. When I got there Bella was in a fetal position on the hospital bed. The one thing I noticed was that she had a bright, glorious smile on her face. It took my breath away.

Then I noticed the blood, there was so much.

"Bella?" I asked but that's when her smile went away and her body went limp.

"Bella!" I called out a little louder. I crawled onto her bed. The blood was coming from her wrists where you can clearly see that she did this on purpose. Bella was taking her life.

"NO!" I growled I pulled her still body into my arms. Her head rolled and her face was all I could see. It looked so peaceful, so calm. _Happy. _

"No, no, no, no," I repeated while cradling her body in my arms. Tears formed in my eyes and fell onto her blissful face.

"Help!" I croaked, my voice breaking.

"HELP! SOMEONE!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, choking on my words from the sobs. A few nurses came in; they saw Bella in my arms and called for more help. I let my head fall back to Bella, my tears continuing to fall on her beautiful face. I felt someone try to pull her away from me and I let her go.

That's all I could do now.

**Five days later.**

I sat beside Emmett Swan in my father's car, we were returning from the funeral.

"Two people in one day. I sure as hell thought I'd be the first to go, what with having cancer and all," He lightly joked. Carlisle chuckled slightly. I could only stare. I wasn't ready to make jokes or laugh.

Carlisle pulled up to Emmett's home...Bella's home. He climbed out, but before shutting the door and running inside from the rain, he looked back at me.

"Hey Edward, would it be alright if I signed up for that counseling thing you do?" He asked, no humor on his face. He honestly wanted to help. He wanted to make sure things like these didn't happen.

I felt my lips curve into a smile, "Sure."


	6. To Write Help On Her Arms

**Author's Note**

I usually don't do shout outs because it singles only one person out and I feel guilty, but just like this story, I HAD to do.

Thank you so much CamellaBones2747 your review made my day, you understood the point of this unusual TWLOHA story, you thanked me for writing this and trying to help many. Plus, your review was so amazing I'm using some of it for this chapter. I suggest everyone read it.

This is it folks. The last chapter.

**Make me a promise? **Once this story is done and you go back to real life, help someone. Whether it's due to depression, or maybe someone is disabled. Help someone, anyone. It will change your life, and theirs. Give love a shot and share it, it's the only way to stop the bad in the world.

www(dot)twloha(dot)com - Go there to not only hear Renee Yohe's story, but to learn more about depression and addiction. It is what inspired this story, it is what is helping me to be a better person.

* * *

"We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don't get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won't solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home."  
_- Jamie Tworkowski_

**EPOV**

**Seven months later.**

"...you're not the only one dealing with death. My sister and father died on the same night," Emmett said to the black haired boy.

"But what am I suppose to do? I can't stop thinking about them," he spoke.

"When you think about them, what do you think about?" I cut in, concentrating on Seth's words.

"Well, I usually just can't stop thinking that they're gone, that they're never coming back." His voice was strained.

"That's why you need to think about the good times you've had with them. Do you think they would want you to remember the worst time in their lives? In yours?" I said to him, he gnawed on his bottom lip.

"But when I think about the good times, I just feel sad again," he stated, Emmett sighed.

"Well Seth, that's bound to happen. But as time goes by you'll find yourself feeling not so sad and will be able to look back at the good times," Em spoke, I was quite shocked. It should have been Emmett who was receiving these words, not the other way around.

Emmett's life has been hard, but for some reason he always came to me.

_"You did what I should have done; you were there for my sister when I wasn't it. Thank you Edward, so much," _He would say. He had so emotion in him you'd think he would be glowing.

_"I had to help Em. I couldn't just walk by with a hello. I needed to help," _I said to him. He would smile.

Seth got up and grabbed his things; with a light grin he left the building. I soon began to get ready to leave for the night, but Emmett just stood around.

"What's up Em?" I asked him, he sighed and walked over to me. Before I knew it he was pulling me into an embrace, slightly weirded out I hugged him back. But that weird turned into understanding.

"People like you give people like us hope, give people like us the peace of mind, knowing that somewhere out there, there are people looking out for us, knowing that there are people who care." He said against me, I smiled and pulled away.

"Em, I told you-" He cut me off.

"I know, you have to do this. But Ed, does it ever occur to you that you _don't_ have to do this." I stood there off guard for a moment. "You want to do this. You want to help someone, like you wanted to help with my sister."

He looked at me with his large brown eyes -much like Bella's- and put a hand on my shoulder, "Maybe if there were more kind, caring, tolerant people like you in the world there would be less jokes about "emo" kids, less callousness towards victims of cutting and addiction and depression. Maybe more people would know and maybe more people would fight for the cause."

I smiled brightly, he was right. If everyday people tried to help, to not judge to quickly, we could stop this. We had to stop this. People out there needed help and only some got it. Everyone of them deserved help.

Em and I reached for our things and left the small brown building. I took the keys and locked it before we went our separate ways to our cars. Emmett was in his jeep and driving away, where as I was taking my time.

Just as I was about to drive off, someone knocked on my window. I jumped a little.

Outside there was a boy. He had tan skin like Seth. He even had the same long black hair and dark eyes.

"I need your help," he said, though his voice was muffled by the glass. I opened my door and he backed away from it so I could get out.

"What do you need?" I asked him, shutting my door.

"So what? Just like that you're going to help me?" he asked, his voice skeptic. "You don't even know me."

"You don't know me, yet you asked for help. I _will_ help you, what's going on?" I said to him. He sighed and brought his hands to his knees.

"What's your name," I asked, taking a seat on the parking lot ground. He sighed and did the same.

"Jacob, yours?" he asked back.

"Edward," I extended my arm out. He took it and gave it a little shake.

"Well Jacob, tell me about yourself," I said to him. He looked at me like I was crazy.

I sighed, "I'll go first."

"My name is Edward Anthony Masen Cullen. I am twenty two and I am, can or will be your best friend for as long as you need me." He smiled up at me, light touching his eyes.

"I think I'd like that. I think I need that."

"Your turn," I smiled at him.

"My name is Jacob William Black. I am sixteen and I like to work on cars?" He said it in a question, only because he wasn't sure if that's what he should have said.

"Oh really? What type of cars?"

Trust. The first mistake I made with Bella. I didn't get a chance to let her trust me. To let herself willingly open. I had to build some form of friendship with Jacob -anyone- in order to get them to trust me. I would do that, and I would keep his trust.

"Right now I am working on an old VW Rabbit," he said. His eyes were full of interest.

"Seriously? I thought those things were extinct," I joked. He chuckled.

It was quiet for a moment, he stood up and I quickly did the same. He looked at me, with more happiness this time.

"Thanks." He handed me something and walked the other way. I looked down in my hands and opened my palm.

It was a razor blade.

He was walking away from it.

I had helped.

Nothing could ever make me happier in my life.

* * *

It is estimated that 17 million Americans suffer from depression.

It affects rich and poor, young and old, black and white.

2/3 are never treated.

Untreated depression is the leading cause of suicide.

Suicide is the third leading cause of death among young people.

**To Write Love On Her Arms**

This is only the beginning.

Depression is treatable. Rescue is possible. We can stop the bleeding. Love is the movement.

"Tell them to look up. Tell them to remember the stars."  
_- Renee Yohe_


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